Cold Sheets: A Series of One Shots
by La Caterina
Summary: One shots, mostly between Guy and Catrine. Range of ratings, but mostly M for steaminess
1. Cold Sheets

_Author's Note: Here's a steamy little one shot between Guy and Catrine. Enjoy, and as always, R&R :)_

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The lights of Locksley Manor seemed to glow brighter in the darkness of night more than usual, Guy thought as he rode his sleek, black stallion up towards the entrance. Slowing his horse outside the stable, Guy dismounted quickly, eager to step inside, eager to return to his home. Two weeks away on business for the Sheriff was far too much. Guy smirked to himself as he tossed the reins to his stable boy. The best part about leaving home is the warm welcome back, he laughed to himself in expectation.

Guy paused at the manor door. Catrine would already be asleep, unsuspecting, alone, and… eager to welcome him home. Once he surprised her and awakened her, that is. With a soft chuckle, Guy silently opened the door, stealing into the manor and walking up the stairs as quietly as he could. Just outside the bedroom door, he tilted his ear towards the wood, listening for her soft, sleeping breath.

But, that was not the sound from within the bedroom. Guy furrowed his brow and gripped the hilt of his sword at what he heard. The rustling of sheets. The soft rubbing of skin. Heavy labored breathing. And a familiar soft, low moan.

"Catrine…" Guy growled under his breath. He drew out his sword from his scabbard noiselessly. Overwhelmed with rage, Guy burst into the bedroom, ramming the door open with his broad shoulder. Guy peered into the darkness of the bedroom, faintly lit by candles and a dying fire. His burning gaze fixed on the bed, on his wife lying wrapped in the white sheets.

"I thought I hear you coming, Guy. Though I did not expect you to return so soon," Catrine spoke coolly, sitting up slightly in the bed, pulling the sheets higher over her.

"Don't lie to me. Where is he?" Guy's gravely voice echoed in the room as he strode over to the bed, his sword gripped tightly in his hand.

Catrine smiled and laughed, "Who?"

A leather glove reached down, throttling her pale neck. "I said, don't lie to me, Catrine," Guy said as he began to tighten his hold.

She craned her neck, trying to escape Guy's clenching fingers, and then she chuckled, her voice breathier under his grip, "You won't find anyone, my love. Just look around."

Guy sneered, narrowing his grey eyes at her, "If I find him, I will kill him… first." He let go of her throat and began searching the bedroom, knocking the chairs, thrusting his sword beneath the bed, turning over everything in the closet.

Catrine only laughed, "I don't quite follow what you're searching so furiously for, Guy."

Guy froze and turned to face her, staring intently, "I'm gone for two weeks, Catrine. Two weeks, and you see fit to make me a cuckold. You just couldn't wait for your own husband, could you, you whore."

"Well, two weeks _is_ a long time, Guy," Catrine chuckled, laying back down in the bed, the white sheets covering her entire body.

He shook his head in disbelief and pointed his sword over her in bed, "Who have you had warming _my_ sheets, Catrine?"

"Oh Guy," Catrine cooed, "You've searched everywhere for your answer, but you haven't yet searched the bed." She closed her eyes and adjusted her position in bed.

His lip twitched in a sneer as he reached one hand down to the cover, scrutinizing her face the entire time. Catrine began to smile, biting her lip and closing her eyes even tighter. And then she sighed. Deeply and longingly.

Guy had had enough, and with a swish of fabric, he flung away the sheets from the bed. Catrine opened her eyes, meeting his enraged look with one of dripping desire. Without the covering, Guy realized just what Catrine had meant. Her own hands explored every inch of her body, lightly tracing around her breasts, down her sides and between her thighs. Catrine bit her lip again, her stare still begging for Guy. Her hand wandered up her thighs, and she began to stroke herself, rubbing circles over her clit, knowing Guy watched each movement she made.

Then she sighed, leaned back and closed her eyes. "Two weeks is a long time, and the sheets did need warming," she chuckled, opening her eyes as she heard Guy sheath his sword. With her unoccupied hand, Catrine reached for his, pulling him into the bed. The leather of his glove felt cold on her skin as she placed his hand on her breast. Guy leaned over her, meeting her seductive smile with a hungry kiss. His kiss became suffocating as Catrine felt him remove hand from her, pulling off his gloves and casting them to the floor.

Guy lowered his body down alongside hers, his leather clothing cool and smooth against her. But his warm hands traveled over her body, finding her hands and matching their motions. Breaking from his kiss, Guy smirked down at Catrine, his eyes eagerly staring into hers, drinking in each time she sighed, each time her eyes fluttered shut, each time her back began to arch under his touch.

Feeling his hand between her thighs, Catrine withdrew her own. With a smile teasing the corner of her lip, she brought her hand up towards Guy, parting his lips with her fingers. His tongue licked away her wetness from her fingers, gently and warmly sucking on each finger that she placed in his mouth. She let her hand fall away behind her head, closing her eyes as his fingers began to trace harder and faster over her clit. At last, she felt each and every muscle in her body flood with warmth and tighten in ecstasy. Her other hand gripped the sheets beside her, feeling the coldness of leather and linen flame against her pounding, racing pulse.

She relaxed with a pleasured sigh, opening her eyes to Guy's knowing, contented smirk above her. He leaned down closer to her, bringing his hand to her mouth as well. Meeting his hand with hers, Catrine guided his wet fingers between her lips, sucking way the stickiness from each of his fingers in turn. Guy chuckled, pulling his hand away and beginning to unhook the clasps to his jacket. "Are the sheets warm enough for your liking now, Catrine?" he whispered as he tossed the leather jacket to the floor, turning around and throwing his legs over the edge of the bed to pull off his boots.

Catrine sat up, moving behind him and reaching around his waist. She pressed her head against the top of his shoulder; her hands began removing the buckle of his belt, pushing the leather strap to the floor. "Not yet, my love,'' she whispered into his ear and kissed along the back of his neck, lifting up the black linen tunic from his body. Hearing his other boot clatter against the wooden floor, Catrine laughed, pulling Guy back into bed with all her strength. She ran one hand under his tunic and pinned Guy down to the bed, pressing into the very center of his chest and leaning down over him with a smirk.

Guy ran his hand up into her dark-blonde hair, bringing her lips to his once more. She pressed her lips to his, then opened her mouth with a sigh, feeling him smile beneath her kiss. Nipping his lips once, Catrine pushed the tunic higher along his body, pulling it off from his head and guiding his muscular arms from the sleeves.

Catrine propped herself up beside him, lightly fingering the definitions of his sinewy chest, her touch traveling lower and lower. She chuckled and slowly bit her lip once more, gazing into his hungry grey eyes, "You know how much I just can't stand cold sheets, Guy."


	2. Swordplay

_Another oneshot. Takes place only a few days after Guy marries Catrine as they settle in to their new lives as Lord and Lady of Locksley together. I just wanted to explore how Catrine learns to fight... or at least who instructs her :)_

_Rated T for innuendo. _

_Enjoy! _

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The thin, slightly damp sheets stuck irritatingly to Catrine's back as she rolled over in bed lazily. Already just a few days into her nuptial week with Guy and every muscle in her body ached and contracted uncomfortably. Catrine massaged the backs of her thighs, stiff and sore from what Guy had made her do last night. Chuckling and dozily shaking her head, she looked around her bedchamber. Their bedchamber.

He was gone, somewhere. But Catrine felt no worry or anxiety; at least this meant a bit of a break for her from their newly wed pursuits. Tenderly, she sat up and stood alongside the messy, romped bed and began dressing herself, ready to explore more of her manor as its new mistress. Of their new manor. Her stomach rumbled with hunger as Catrine fastened the last buckle of her black bodice. Food was now her first priority.

Making her way down the steps of Locksley Manor, Catrine called out for Thornton in her loud, clear, and commanding voice. The aging servant ran from the kitchen, "Yes, Lady Gisborne. What is your bidding?"

Catrine laughed as a slight smirk teased at her mouth, the servant's obedience reminding her of her newfound power, "Right now, Thornton, a warm meal would be most welcome." And with a deep bow, Thornton strode back to the kitchen, his voice echoing through the manor as he ordered the others around to prepare their mistress a meal.

Immersed in her own self-satisfaction, Catrine paced slowly around the manor, brushing off the chairs, straightening the objects lying on the table, and finally gazing out the window. From across the field, she could hear distinctly patterned clanging and scuffling.

Curious, Catrine made her way out the door, despite the intoxicating smell of roasted meat now coming from deep within the manor. The distinct clash of metal meeting metal echoed in her ear, sending a pang of fright through Catrine's heart. She knew the peasants did not take kindly to their new lord and lady of Locksley, but an uprising or an assassin would be uncalled for and unforeseen. Sprinting off across the stretch of grasses, Catrine ran up the nearby hill, seeing two figures battling each other—one: the tall, muscular and dark man she had just married. With hard, swift blows, Guy beat back a peasant man, tall and lanky, but obviously skilled with a sword. For a moment, it seemed her husband had the upper hand.

"Guy," she called out, her voice edged in panic as she ran up behind him, lifting her skirts for speed. In a split second, Guy hesitated for a moment, hearing his name, before he roughly whacked the peasant on the back with the broadside of his blade.

"Point for me, Dirk," he scowled at the scraggly face before him before turning around, smirking at the panic-stricken look spread across Catrine's face. "Good morning, my love. You're up earlier than I anticipated."

"Wh-what's going on, Guy?" Catrine managed to stammer out as her eyes flashed from Guy to the peasant breathing heavily behind him.

"Training," he replied with a sniff. "Need to practice strength and form somehow. Even though fighting a mere peasant isn't much of a challenge," he added, as he looked sidelong at Dirk, wiping sweat off his high forehead on his stained, questionably red tunic.

Dirk let out an agitated grunt, "Master Robin used think me excellent competition when he rightfully kept his lands for years."

Guy spun on his heel, gripping his sword even tighter, "Robin of Locksley thinks any competition he defeats excellent." Catrine chuckled at his words, knowing it accurate of her childhood playmate and cousin.

His face darkening red, Dirk drew his blade back again and whacked Guy smartly in the stomach. Guy shoved Catrine out of his way with a pained groan. But she only strode back beside him once he let go.

"You'll pay for your insult and your arrogance, Guy of Gisborne. Robin of Locksley is twice the man, noble and master than you," Dirk taunted as he wound up for another blow.

Guy met Dirk's blade with his own, fighting back all signs of effort and pain. "If he is twice the man, then why would _such_ a caring master abandon the town and the people he loves for years?"

Dirk's eyes flickered in response, "He will return, and when he does, you will be in very different straights then… _master_," he spat back, spinning his sword around in parry and striking again, "You and your… whore."

Anger burned in Guy's grey eyes as Catrine felt her own fury igniting. Guy's gloved fist clasped tightly around the peasant's forearm, and Dirk cried out in surprise and pain.

"Whore…" echoed through Catrine's mind as she stepped beside the two men, ground her teeth in determination, wound up her own fist… and met face with knuckle right into Dirk's cheek.

The sickening crack of bone sounded, and Guy's eyes opened wide at his wife's strike. Dirk crumpled to the grown right before him, his own clouded, dirty blue eyes wide and trembling in pain and shock. Catrine pressed her foot against his already swollen and red cheek, "We are your master and mistress now; do you not agree… Dirk was it?" she asked, digging the toe of her shoe deeper into his broken jaw. Dirk screamed in pain as he nodded furiously in agreement. "Good," Catrine smirked as she stepped away, meeting Guy's burning gaze. Burning in amazement and in stirring excitement for what his wife could do.

With a bellowing yell, Guy called for his steward, and Thornton came immediately, responding to his master's call. "Thornton, lock this thing up in the stocks," he growled as he planted a kick in Dirk's side, "And leave him there until he rots. He will learn what it means to not show proper respect to this village's lord and master."

Thornton reached down to assist Dirk to his feet, careful to appear not to show too much mercy. Dirk clutched at his jaw as he sent Guy a furious look. As Thornton began leading Dirk away, Guy ordered him to wait. He looked his wife up and down beside him, seeing her blush under his gaze.

"Give me that," he ordered, pointing to her sash about her hips. Slowly, Catrine reached for the knot behind her back with a smirk. Her eyes beckoned to Guy silently, sliding the fabric around her body as her hands continued to work the knot.

"I think I may need some help, my love," she breathed.

Guy chuckled quickly as he stepped up to her, bracing her against him, running his hands along her hips to her ass and finally her back. Unlacing the knot quickly, he placed a lingering kiss at the base of her neck, pulling away from her and turning around to face the two men once more.

"Hold out his hands, Thornton," he barked, wrapping the thin black material around his left hand deliberately. Dirk struggled against the old man trying to follow Guy's command, grunting inarticulately through his broken and swollen jaw. In a fluid effort, the peasant pushed Thornton back, only to find fingers pressing inexorably against his cheek as he turned back to face Guy once more.

Catrine smirked as she pressed even harder, digging into the wound she inflicted. "Hold out your hands," she ordered through clenched teeth, and Dirk obeyed. Guy grabbed his wrists, binding them together tight with Catrine's sash, barely drawing his eyes from her face to look at his own hands.

"Take him away," he barked as he shoved Dirk back towards Thornton. He stood watching their figures recede back towards the manor. A soft chuckle tickled his ear as hands wandered around his waist. He leaned back against Catrine, enjoying her attention as she continued to explore him all over.

"You're so tense, my love," she whispered, feeling his muscles contract and ripple under her hand as she began to rub and caress the skin beneath his jacket.

Guy chuckled, flexing his abs under her anxious fingers. "The shame of it is, now who am I going to train against?"

"How about me?" Catrine asked as she stepped away from him to Dirk's abandoned sword lying on the ground nearby. She grabbed it by the hilt, testing its weight and balance in both hands.

"You? You want to fight me?" Guy smirked, drawing his blade back out from his scabbard. "Have you ever even fought before?"

Catrine smiled and moved her blade in front of her face, saluting her opponent. Then she maneuvered the blade purposefully around her, first with the right, then the left; now twirling the blade with the wrist, then the forearm, then the entire shoulder. She moved closer and closer to Guy who held his blade at the ready. In a second, she swung the sword, stopping the blade a hairline from Guy's, the metal slicing through the air. Catrine panted a bit from her exertions, "You see, I watched my brother and father practice. Picked some up myself."

"Not bad," Guy commented, knocking the blade quickly away from his own. "But I hope you never really have to defend yourself. That's what I'm here for," he flashed a charming smirk.

"All the same," Catrine smiled, saluting Guy once more, "Do you think you would condescend to teach me, my love?"

"If you wish… but only in exchange for something," Guy placed his blade on hers now at attention, running the metal against its entire length. "One service for another?" he suggested, his voice sly.

Catrine laughed, beating back his blade and thrusting towards him from the side. Guy's eyes opened wider in surprise at her strike. "Fair enough, but let's make it interesting. First strike with the broadside wins. And by winning, I mean getting to decide exactly how the service is to be… rendered?"

Guy chuckled again, louder this time, "You're on."

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	3. Prisoner in Question: part 1

_Author's Note: Just posting something that's been buried in my laptop for awhile. Here's what I had, now to just finish the story :)_

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The early spring sunlight fell dimly through the window of Locksley manor as Catrine stared out the window's open frame, watching the gathering storm clouds roll in from the hill-streaked horizon. She sighed in frustration, completely bored with her wifely duties for the day. Dropping her embroidery to the ground in front of her chair, Catrine stood and began to pace. It had been only too long since she had last seen Guy, three entire days of him at the castle, working day and night, night and day for some plot of the Sheriff. And she could not help, far too dangerous, far too politically involved for even her capabilities. At least that's what the Sheriff's message had said. And if she dared showed her face, dared to insert herself into his affairs again, she would be the sorrier of the two of them.

By now, Catrine could stand no more of this waiting, this separation, this loneliness, angered that the Sheriff would take her husband away from her for so long still within the first year of their marriage. And she ached for him, three days alone in Locksley, alone in the manor, and alone in bed.

She had to see him, now.

Thunder began to rumble in the distance, but Catrine moved all the faster up the stairs to the bedroom. She stripped of her gown, tossing the grey fabric in a heap on the mattress. Riffling through her drawers and shelves, Catrine threw dress after dress to the ground, searching for just the right one. Finally, she settled for a simple dress of brown muslin, reaching into its coarseness and tugging it down over her. Rash, for once, she would allow herself to be rash. Running down the stairs, she had but one wish in her, to just touch her husband that night—wherever he wanted to be touched.

Opening the door, she looked out over her village, a light drizzle already dripping from the dark sky. Peasants frantically crossed the dirt road, running in from the distant fields to take shelter from the gathering clouds, as another thunder bolt cracked from beyond the hills.

"Girl!" Catrine called out to a young woman dashing off towards her presumable home through the water. The girl slowed in her tracks and turned, her bright blonde and curly hair mussed and dirt covered from working in the fields. The girl panted, wiping the rain from her smooth and pale face. "What do you want?" she asked, and even her voice was young.

"A crown for your cape, girl," she muttered, nodding her head to the girl's thick, heavy, and drown cloak, her hand fishing out a coin from her purse at her hip.

The young girl huffed and pulled the fabric even closer to her, "I hardly think so."

"What's your name?" Catrine half sneered.

"Kate of Locksley. What's yours?" the brat taunted back.

Catrine allowed her sneer to spread all the way across her face, and tossed an entire handful of coins to the mud between them. "Does it really matter now?" she laughed as the girl stared astonished, her eyes wide at the shining metal circles half-buried in muck. Kate bent down, her hand outstretched to the ground. But then a leather heel covered the gold, and the girl looked up. Catrine tutted, "Your cloak first, child."

The girl quickly unlaced the knot at her neck and flung the fabric up at the woman. Wrapping the cloak around her shoulders, Catrine hurried away, fairly sprinting down the road out of Locksley. If she ran, she could reach Nottingham by noon, sooner than that if she could plead for a ride into town.

Bumping and swaying, jostled and thrown, Catrine swore that if that baby didn't stop its screeching, there may be another distraught mother in the town of Nottingham. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she looked towards the approaching walls of the city, feeling her anxiety and her relief clashing against one another. This cart ride, however much it had expedited her journey, had been hell—crowded with a family of nearly ten on their way into Nottingham. They had been easily swayed to help a woman reach the town, so long separated from her husband there; at least it had been the truth, no matter how over-emotional her plea had been. However, her pity plea had resulted in hours sitting in the crowded bed of the cart, surrounded by fighting children, sopping wet from the torrents of rainfall, and her legs dangling off the rough edge of the cart. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on that night. She'd do anything to finally be with Guy again, to touch him, to taste him again in secret and in disguise. In her mind, she could almost see his smirk, his glinting grey eyes, his finely chiseled body. Her heart raced with her imaginings, and already she could feel the damp excitement between her thighs.

Clutching the cowl of her new cloak around her face, Catrine felt the cart slow as a man on the road shouted for them to halt. "Sorry, but you will just have to turn around," the guard ordered from his horse where it stood, stationed in the middle of the road.

The old peasant man shook his balding head, "Why is that?"

"Nottingham is closed to visitors today. No one is allowed in or out, by orders of the Sheriff of Nottingham himself." The horse, brown like roasted wheat, skittered nervously under the guard. And with a shrug of his shoulders, the man began to turn the cart, slowly driving the horse back up the road. Her heart raced, this couldn't happen. This wasn't what she planed. And she didn't want to just return and wait for Guy another single day; three had been enough. She had to get into Nottingham, one way or another.

She slid off the cart and walked down the road towards the mounted guard who now rode his horse over the bridge back towards the main gate. "Hey you!" she shouted, and the guard reined his horse in, turning it in a tight circle about face. "Yes, you, stooge of the Sheriff. You think you're so official, don't you?" she kept her hood deep over her face, trying to keep her nerve as the horse trotted up at her. "Think you've got all the power in the world to keep common peasants out," she shouted louder up at him into the falling rain, feeling his glare from his helmet-covered face. Catrine forced a laugh, "You see, I've got you figured out. You abuse your power on women and children, you ride a big horse, you wield a long, thick sword… I think, you're making everything else manly in your life larger than normal to fill the void in your manhood… the one between your legs." And with that, she spat at the ground just under the horse's toned legs.

With an enraged howl, the guard kicked Catrine to the ground. The mud felt slick and cold on her face, soaking through the thin and already sopping fabrics of her dress. His cruel laugher echoed through her head as she pulled herself up to her feet again, wiping the dirt from her mouth and her eyes. Rough hands clasped on her arms from behind. "Take this one to the castle. She needs to learn some manners," the guard leered down from his mount, "Only don't let the Sheriff hear of this, he's far to busy to trifle with this minor… issue." The hands shoved her down the road, and Catrine couldn't help the beginnings of a smile amidst the foreboding sense of dread.


End file.
